


Calling The Game

by danceswithgary



Series: Playing Along [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insult added to injury interrupts play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling The Game

"All right, where's my idiot and what's he done to himself now?"

Regretting that there's nowhere to hide in the wide-open infirmary, John lowers the icepack to scowl at Ronon, but then winces and returns it to the left side of his face, grumbling, "I can't believe you ratted me out."

"Didn't want him pissed off at me." Ronon shakes his head and then calls out as Rodney rounds the corner from the hallway, "Told you it wasn't bad, McKay. Just took an elbow to his face."

"Yeah, and it's just a bruise and a fat lip. The doc already said I'm free to go." John just barely manages to suppress a groan as he hops down from the bed, but a sway betrays him and he has to endure Ronon's grating chuckle as he steadies John. "Okay, so I'm a little tired, too. It was a long day and I played hard. I just need a shower and sleep."

It's apparent that Rodney disagrees, shoving his way past Ronon to take over support duty even as he objects to John's casual dismissal of his injury, worry bleeding through the irritation in Rodney's voice. "Oh, really? I heard you were out cold for almost a minute. Do you have a concussion? Did Jennifer scan you for brain damage?"

"He really is fine, Rodney." Jennifer's tone is indulgent as she walks up behind Rodney. "No concussion, nothing broken, just the contusions. He will, however, likely end up with a truly spectacular black eye to go along with his split lip."

"It's not bad enough you risk your life on missions." John can't help cringing a little when Rodney levels an accusing finger at him. "Playing basketball with Marines half your age…."

"Hey, that's enough! I'm only 43, not 50!" John straightens indignantly and twists his elbow free from Rodney's grasp, throwing the icepack down on the bed. "And I can keep up just fine. In fact, I scored ten points for my team!"

John instantly regrets his outburst when hurt flashes in Rodney's eyes and he feels even worse when Rodney backs up a step to offer a cool, precise apology. "I'm sorry, my mistake. Obviously, my concern for your wellbeing was unwarranted. I'm certain you are perfectly capable of playing as hard as you like with the rest of the boys, Colonel." With a shrug, he turns away from John and begins to leave. "Since my presence is neither required nor desired here…."

"Rodney, wait. I…" Shaking off his fatigue and irritation, John reaches out and catches Rodney's shoulder, casting a silent plea in Ronon's direction. Ronon answers with a nod and heads for the door, then Jennifer picks up on it too and smiles in rueful commiseration before aiming for her office. John doesn't waste any time on a verbal apology, instead moving in close enough to press a kiss to the left side of Rodney's frown then to the right. "I could really use some help washing my back." With a tilt of his head, John tries one of the half-smiles that Rodney has confessed he finds hard to resist. "Or any other parts you might be interested in." He follows up with a silly eyebrow waggle, just barely managing not to wince.

The pain renewed by the simple movement is worth it when, after a moment or two, Rodney's frown lifts. Shaking his head with a slow-growing smile, Rodney sputters a little as he searches for a response. "You. You…are…so…."

"Ready to get out of here," John finishes for him before trying for a deeper kiss that he has to abort with an apologetic, "Ow."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney grabs the icepack from the bed and hands it to John with a caustic, "Here. What say we limit the stupid moves for the rest of the night?" As John raises the pack to his face, determined to ignore the provocation, Rodney winces and hunches his shoulders a little, the acid draining from his voice as he starts to back peddle. "Sorry, I…."

John presses a finger against Rodney's lips and says calmly, "Let's just go. Mine or yours?"

When John lifts his finger, Rodney answers with a subdued, "Yours," and John suddenly wonders if he made a mistake giving Rodney the choice. He knows that Rodney would let John stay the night, but John's not feeling as sure that Rodney won't manufacture a reason to leave. Hoping that he's wrong, John falls into step next to Rodney as they head for John's quarters, both of them silent as they walk through the halls separated by too many inches for John's comfort. He wants to reach out and grab Rodney's hand, but he's uncertain about how welcome the gesture would be, then Rodney closes the gap between them and banishes that doubt. When Rodney glances toward John with a shy smile, John squeezes his hand and grins back, ignoring the twinge from his abused lip.

Although he's feeling a little remorse for his outburst in the infirmary - because it had been classic Rodney cover for concern and John doesn't want that to change - John doesn't regret the cause of their clash. Running up and down the improvised basketball court had felt great; the stretch and pull of too-often-deskbound muscles, the trash talking that helped break down the barriers between John and his men, the relief of letting go of his responsibilities for an hour or two. John had even sworn his men and Ronon to secrecy on the identity of the elbow's owner because, although John didn't think Rodney would be that petty, Masters didn't deserve to suffer for an accident.

Of course, now John is feeling every one of those years he had over the other players, even if they aren't as many as Rodney had claimed, although sparring with Ronon before the game might not have been one of John's better choices. He keeps it together until they're inside his room but, as soon as the door swishes shut behind him, John lets out a quiet groan of relief and starts stripping as he walks toward the bathroom and the hot shower he's been craving.

A glance over his shoulder is moderately reassuring. Rodney is quietly following John's example, although his clothes are ending up folded neatly on John's desk chair instead of tossed toward the hamper. The quick, calculated movements leave John feeling a little unsettled because lately he's been thinking he'd prefer having Rodney's belongings mixed in with his - so that staying would be a given - but he knows Rodney's not ready to take that step.

John drops the icepack in the sink and steps into the shower, thinking 'on, hot, harder' as he raises his arms and leans against the tile to let the water begin to pound away at the aches. It feels great and only gets better when Rodney's strong hands join in, John's muscles turning to jelly under broad strokes slicked by soap.

A few minutes in, fatigue hits John hard and he knows that he's close to done for the night, but he doesn't want it all to be about him. Flipping around, he leans back against the wall and grabs the soap, lathering up for a little massage therapy of his own. Rodney feels good under John's hands, smooth skin over firm muscle and solid bone, and John tugs him close so he can feel Rodney against him while he blindly maps Rodney's broad shoulders and down his spine to soft curves that fit John's palms as if made for them.

Rodney is hard against John, nestled in the slight hollow of John's hip while John rubs against Rodney's belly slow and sweet, the uninjured side of John's face resting on Rodney's shoulder, his lips pressed under Rodney's jaw. He thinks about how good Rodney tastes, how he feels thick and heavy on John's tongue, and considers slipping to his knees to find out if it's as good as John's memory insists. Before he can, the first wave of release sneaks up on John in gentle surprise, a quiet shudder repeated twice as he sighs a simple, "Rodney."

Muscles slack, John decides it's a good time for a taste test, but a growled, "Oh no, I don't think so," halts his downward slide. Rodney manhandles him under the water for a quick rinsing while grumbling, "Let's move this somewhere a little less slippery, shall we? Don't force me to quote statistics on accidental falls in showers and bathtubs. One visit to the infirmary per day is quite enough for me, thanks."

Too weary to protest beyond, "But, you…," John allows Rodney to dry him off before he trundles John to the bed and under the covers. The renewed ache in John's face banishes his irritation at Rodney's refusal in the shower, and he welcomes the fresh icepack Rodney carefully positions over the bruise with a quiet, "Thanks." He squints up at Rodney, who's hovering next to the bed, and sighs at the indecision he can see in Rodney's eyes. Knowing that it's up to him this time, John reaches out and asks softly, "Stay? Please?"

A smile clears away the shadows and Rodney nods. "Of course." Walking around to the other side of the bed, he climbs in and wraps himself around John, his chest to John's back.

Rodney presses a kiss to the back of John's neck as he settles into place, and John can feel him pressing still half-hard and feels a little guilty. "Hey, it's your turn."

He starts to roll over, but Rodney holds him tighter and murmurs, "I'm fine just like this, John. Go to sleep."

"But, it's not fair," John protests with a squirm that fails to dislodge Rodney's hold.

Rodney chuckles and squeezes a little harder before loosening his grip and gently stroking John's chest and belly, "Not keeping score." John slowly relaxes under the soft caresses, melting back into Rodney's warm body as he begins to drift. He's not sure if he's already in a dream, but the last thing he hears sends John to sleep with a smile.

"I don't need to. I've already won."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [BJ Friday prompt - Frottage](http://neevebrody.livejournal.com/201278.html) and [McSheplets Challenge #85 Tired](http://community.livejournal.com/mcsheplets/).


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